Toy Soldier
by RainFlame
Summary: After Hughes' death, Ed has no one left to pick up the pieces. Parental!Roy Ed. Oneshot. Slight AU, if you squint.


The silence was stifling, and the darkness consuming as he unlocked the door and gave it a weary shove. His eyes did a cursory sweep of the room, a habit he couldn't shake no matter how improbably the danger. Everything was as he had left it. Books and papers were piled high on his desk, an insurmountable chore he would never be finished with. The bookshelves lining the walls were neatly organized, and the seating area was undisturbed. All was as it should be.

No one was here at this hour. Roy shouldn't even be here at this hour. It was three in the morning, after all.

But he couldn't sleep, try as he might. With the latest break in the Scar investigation, his mind refused to be silenced, analyzing data and trying to piece together events, even when he begged it to shut down.

If he was going to be awake anyway, he might as well accomplish something.

He shut the door behind him with more force than necessary, annoyed at the whole scenario. It settled in its frame with a loud crack and Roy's delicate hearing detected a gasp.

In an instant, his ignition glove was on his hand, ready to incinerate whoever was stupid enough to come at him when he was in such a mood.

All of the wind went out of his sails when he caught sight of the pair of golden eyes that appeared over the side of the couch. "Colonel?"

"Fullmetal?" he asked, deflating as an annoyed frown creased his forehead. "What are you doing here? It's three in the morning!"

"I'm sorry, Colonel." The apology was a simple one, but Roy could sense something two-fold behind it, a separate meaning veiled behind his emotionless reply. His sleep deprived mind couldn't figure out why that might be though, for the life of him.

Roy was sure the boy said something else after that statement, but it was lost on him. His mind still couldn't quite fumble past the words "I'm sorry."

"What's wrong, Fullmetal?" he asked with a tired sigh, striding over to his desk to deposit his files and to seat himself, preparing for the worst. If Fullmetal apologized, something had to be wrong. He probably destroyed half of South City or something and was trying to curb a scolding.

When Edward didn't respond after a few silent heartbeats, Roy glanced up from his files. Perhaps this was something a bit more serious than he had assumed. Both of the Elrics had just gotten back to Central late last night (or maybe it was tonight, Roy wasn't certain) after a long trip back from South City. Fullmetal was actually scheduled to give his report in just a few hours.

"Are you injured?" It was the first thing that had come to Roy, and once it planted itself in his mind, it wouldn't be shaken until he had an answer. It was no secret that Ed was prone to injury, being hotheaded and brash as he was, and it was also no big secret that he hated hospitals. Roy was fairly certain it was because of a developed a fear of needles and the way he associated the hospital scene with fear and pain after his automail surgery and the traumatic events around it. Either way, it wasn't uncommon for him to have Alphonse stich him up or, when the injury was more sever, Havoc, since he had a soft spot for the kid. Ed had once made the mistake of coming to Mustang on one such occasion. He had been knifed in the side, blood spilling everywhere, and asked if Mustang would give him a hand. Mustang gave him a hand, alright; all the way to the hospital.

From the deep shadows on the other side of his office, the blond boy shook his head. "It's not that, Colonel. I . . . I just needed to tell you something."

Roy scowled then, all of his foreboding dissolving into irritation now that that line of thought was alleviated. If nothing else, he enjoyed the peace and quiet of being at the office before dawn. It was a bit of a solace before the mad rush of the day, and he did not like the idea of it being disrupted because Fullmetal couldn't wait until morning. "Well, Fullmetal, what is it?" he asked, his voice laced with irritation.

The dejected boy didn't seem to notice. He simply dipped his head toward his lap and murmured, "I'm sorry."

It took a long, slow moment for Roy to wrap his mind around that statement. "What?"

The words came again, barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry about Hughes."

Roy was stunned into silence. Sorry? About Maes?

Maes had been dead almost a month now. Just the mention of his name brought a stab of pain to Roy's gut. Maes had been his closest friend, and his brutal murder had ripped Roy's life apart. Only now was he starting to put his life back in order in the absence of the man, but Ed's words had yanked that particular wound wide open.

"I appreciate it, Fullmetal," Roy said slowly, his words heavy with both uncertainty and a touch of grief he couldn't quite hold back. This was not a subject Roy was ready to discuss with anyone . . .

"You don't understand," Ed said, voice quivering. "It was my fault. It was all my fault!" His head snapped up to meet Roy's gaze, and Roy was startled to find tears trailing down the young alchemist's face.

Roy was suddenly reminded of how young Ed was.

"Ed, what are you-"

"I gave him that information . . . I got involved in that laboratory, even after everyone told me to leave it alone. I didn't, and I kept pushing and pushing . . ." His voice broke. "And Hughes suffered for it." His head dropped again, as if the guilt were a physical burden, weighing him down. "I'm sorry."

Again, Roy's mind was slow to catch up. He had not been prepared for this level of emotional activity so early in the morning. He hadn't even had his coffee yet . . .

He massaged the bridge of his nose, both to buy himself time and to ward of the headache he was already feeling the beginnings of. Roy had never been good at this sort of thing. Offering comfort and words of wisdom had always been Maes' forte, not his. He was not good at this. Give him an enemy to destroy and he was a master, but confront him with a grieving child and he was a blubbering idiot.

"Ed," he said, softening his voice, hoping to sound comforting. "It's not your fault. No one blames you-"

The boy's face contorted into a snarl and he raised his head to look Roy in the eyes. "I blame myself!" he shouted, the words shattering the quietness like delicate glass. They stared at each other through the dimness, Ed's eyes daring Roy to deny his statement. "So go ahead and hate me. I deserve it. I deserve worse." With those words, the fire in his eyes died and tears spilled over. He quickly ducked his head again, hiding his face behind a curtain of blond hair.

Roy wasn't cut out to deal with this.

With a weary sigh, Roy got to his feet and crossed the room to the couches. Though Ed wasn't looking, Roy knew he was keeping careful track of his movements. Roy lowered himself right next to the boy and put a hand on his shoulder. The blond flinched, but made no other movement to shrug him off.

"Maes was one of the best men I've ever had the honor of knowing. If there was one thing that defined him, though, I think that would be selfless. Everything he ever did was to help someone else. That was just how he was." Roy tried to stay detached from the words, but his own voice betrayed him, making his words sound thick with emotion. "Now, you tell me, do you honestly think Maes would hold you responsible?"

Ed didn't move, his gaze fixated on the hands in his lap. "No," he whispered, his voice so small and anguished that Mustang had to fight down the paternal urge to embrace him, to make this hurt go away. But that would probably only embarrass the kid, and-

Ed was a blur of movement, launching himself into the colonel's arms. He let loose a heart-wrenching wail, burying his head into the front of Roy's uniform and sobbing openly. The shocked colonel threw his hands in the air in surprise, then slowly, gently wrapped his arms around the boy. "It's okay, Ed," he murmured, not sure what else to say. This sudden contact with the kid felt wrong, defying every aspect of their relationship. Ed was supposed to be at Mustang's throat, not in his arms, seeking comfort like a child would from a father. There was a wrongness about seeing Ed, strong, hotheaded Ed, so broken and grieving. It wasn't right, wasn't matching up to the image in Roy's head.

At the same time, though, there was a sort of rightness to it, this contact. Like Roy finally had the chance to do something right by the kid. It wasn't fair of him to send the boy out like a little toy soldier and not be there for him when he came back in pieces. He wasn't there nearly enough, and perhaps that was starting to fray Ed under the weight of his real and self-imposed responsibilities.

He only wished he had more to offer the kid than his stumbling words of sympathy. It was ridiculous how Roy was a master of words all day long, but the moment anyone needed any kind of emotional comfort, Roy wasn't able to provide it. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry we lost Maes." He paused, taking a breath, trying to steady himself. "And I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

That was what it came down to. It was easy to fool yourself into thinking Ed was an adult. He was a State Alchemist, a prodigy with superb skill both in alchemy and in martial arts. He had survived more close scrapes than most encountered in a long military career, and when you looked him in the eyes, you could see the steel and resolve of a hardened warrior.

But Mustang had been blind, too proud of the child under his command that he toted around like a medal to see that that was exactly what he was; a child. For all of his mental and physical prowess, he was a kid, one that had been traumatically ripped from childhood early on to become a caretaker for his younger brother, and self-proclaimed savior for them both. He had the weight of the world on his conscience, and Hughes' death had added a great load on top of it.

And through all of it, Roy hadn't been there. None of them had.

Ed tensed in his arms and Roy released him reluctantly. His words weren't going to help, but he had been hoping the physical contact might, a silent show of support that Roy couldn't adequately express aloud.

Ed sat back, wiping at his face with his sleeve and sniffing loudly. "It's not your responsibility to be _'there for me,_' Mustang," he said, his words colored with self-loathing, though his voice was admirably steady, despite his hysterics a moment before. Regardless, though, Roy felt the dismissal like a wrench to his heart. "Sorry to bother you."

And just like that, the boy shut him out, his face, though still wet with tears, became an unreadable mask, like cold stone. He got to his feet, head hanging, and hands stuffed in his pockets. "Al's probably noticed I'm not there by now. I've gotta get back. I'll be along later to give my report." He turned to leave, mismatched footsteps shuffling to the door.

"Ed."

The boy turned around, his golden eyes dull and not the least bit interested in anything the Colonel had to say.

But Roy wasn't going to even attempt to use words. He stepped up to him and gave him a crushing embrace, taking the blond completely by surprise. Ed stiffened in his grasp, and Roy could practically feel his indignation and the protests forming on his lips, but he didn't give him a chance to say them.

Despite his intentions, though, Roy felt the words tumbling out of his mouth, unfettered by his rational brain. "You stupid brat," he whispered, no real fire in the words, though he felt a sudden heat to his eyes, stinging them with fresh tears. "It _is_ my responsibility, Ed. It _is_, and I've failed you." It was no wonder Ed tried to struggle with these things by himself. Who else did the kid really have? Maes had practically adopted the boys, and now he was gone. It must have been like their father leaving them all over again, leaving Ed behind to try to pick up the pieces for Alphonse. But no one was left to pick up the pieces for Ed.

Well, Mustang set himself on fire before leaving Ed alone like that again.

"I'm the only one that should be apologizing," Roy said, his voice quivering. "I'm sorry you felt that this was all somehow your fault, and I'm sorry I wasn't there to tell you otherwise." The tears spilled down his face now, but he ignored them, all of his efforts expended to reach the boy in his arms. "Maes wouldn't blame you, and neither do I."

_And you won't suffer like this alone again._

It was an unspoken promise, hovering in the air between them.

Edward slowly, resignedly relaxed in his grip. They stood there, frozen in the middle of the office with the moon pooling silently on the floor and the air scarcely moving, as if time itself had stopped for their grief. Roy didn't dare to move, lest the spell would be broken and Ed would push him away, locking all outside help away while his guilt tore him apart on the inside.

Then, the kid's small body suddenly shuddered. His back heaved and he let loose a choked sob, wrapping his arms around his Colonel's waist. Just the sounds of Ed's internal agony was enough to get Mustang worked up again, and the tears came harder.

They stayed there, holding on to each other and crying, unable to do anything else, but Roy felt a great relief in it. It was as if weeks of agony were finally being alleviated from Ed's poor soul, the tears cleansing him of the guilt and pain that had been consuming him on the inside.

Ed would be alright. He would probably be embarrassed about this for days to come, but he would be alright. Roy would be there to make sure of it. Never again would Ed be forced to deal with these things on his own.

The broken toy soldier was finally being put back together, one piece at a time.

* * *

Geez, I've been quite around here. Hopefully I'll have some time now and again to remedy that. I miss fan fiction C:

Hope you enjoy!

God Bless,

-RainFlame


End file.
